


Return to Soldier's Peak

by danceswithhamsters01



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, King Alistair, Levi Dryden - Freeform, Sigrún - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 12:38:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15908424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceswithhamsters01/pseuds/danceswithhamsters01
Summary: Two years have passed since the end of the Fifth Blight. Warden-Commander Amell and King Alistair return to the Grey Warden post, Soldier's Peak, to inspect things before stationing forces there.





	Return to Soldier's Peak

The crunch of snow beneath my feet. The feel of cold air as I breathe it in. The softer steps of Fang beside me. The heavier steps of Alistair, er King Alistair now, on my other side. The noise of heavily armed troops keeping a respectful distance behind us. I concentrate on these rather than the memories that try to crawl out of the box I keep them in.

 The Drydens had been busy in the two years we had left the Peak under their care. The caves were no longer a hazardous maze, they’d helpfully hung torches along the path to guide the way. Most of our followers were the King’s guards, something insisted on by Chamberlain Eamon. We would’ve preferred to have come here with just us and perhaps a couple of my Wardens. But you can’t always get what you want, can you?

 We climb the last inclined path before we finally reach the gate. Levi beamed as he laid eyes on us. He gave a quick bow after reaching us.

 “Your Majesty! Commander Amell! Welcome to Soldier’s Peak!”

 I smile and shake his hand. He looks so much better than the first time I met him. This wasn’t a soul who was haunted by a past he never lived, seeking answers to painful questions. Behind him, members of his family busied themselves with loading a small caravan heading for the southern bannorns. Levi always kept me up to speed with letters once he found out I finally had a base of operations. The gossip was handy to have, he would tell me more than any of my supposed helpers at court. And it was nice to write about something other than official business for a change.

 While he and Alistair chat about something, I spare a thoughtful look around. I saw no signs of neglect or disrepair. Somehow, the Dryden clan had managed to clean away any visible signs of demons or undead prowling the grounds. That couldn’t have been a pleasant task. I’d make sure they were rewarded. If my fussy advisors back in my arling’s court wouldn’t let me do it, then I’d find some sort of Warden business to do it. One of the few perks of having two titles, I suppose.

 “Sevarra?” Alistair’s voice pulls me back to the here-and-now.

 “I’m sorry, I must’ve drifted off there. What was it?”

 He laughed and clapped me on the back. No one else would even dare to think of that. Most mundane folk still find the being-a-mage-thing intimidating. They pretend they don’t, but they do, their body language screams it. Master made certain I could read people within weeks of coming under his tutelage.

 “Inside. Tea. Yes?” he chuckled.

 Ah, singing my song. I smile and nod.

 Judging from the happy muttering of the soldiers, they were equally happy to be out of the cold. Fang immediately planted his butt by the hearth. Levi’s wife, Mara, nearly had herself a fit from shock. It’s not every day a king and an arlessa show up in your dining hall, I suppose. I offered to help out, but I was immediately overruled. I’m still not used to this being pampered business. I’ve been making my own tea since I’d was tall enough to reach the kettle. At the very least, my tea was drinkable, unlike the liquid affront to the Maker Alistair had brewed.

 “So, what brings you here?” Mara asked politely. I noticed her eyes nervously flick to the staff at my back. If she knew anything about staves, she’d know moonstone would be the last thing a war-mage worth a spit would want as her weapon’s focus stone.

 “Oh, your clan isn’t being ousted, m’lady,” Alistair quickly cut in. “You’ll just have… company now.”

 I nod. “Soldier’s Peak is still a Grey Warden post. We’re just inspecting it before stationing any of my Wardens here. A small platoon of the Crown’s soldiers will be coming with them. It’ll keep things here safer, more secure. Servants and supplies will be sent along with them. We don’t want to be a burden on anyone.”

 While Alistair quickly tries to set her mind at ease, I let my magic-sensing loose, like a fisherman’s net in the sea. I didn’t sense anything dark, unlike my very first visit here. That first time, I had nearly wept from the pain of it burning my delicate sensing. Dark magic and I aren’t on friendly terms, never have been. The Veil here had been torn and demons had roamed the halls for over a century. To say that I worry for the safety of my magi Wardens would be putting it far too lightly.

 Soon enough, the tea is finished. I thank Mara and rise from my seat, chirping for Fang.

 “I need to inspect the rest of the keep, don’t mind me,” I say.

 Mara rises as if to follow, but is thankfully distracted by Alistair. Wearing the crown has somehow made him give himself permission to be quick-witted in public, instead of just among friends. Mara would not like watching me doing “spooky magic things” as I work. She just had that sort of aura about her, mundane and easily spooked by anything she wouldn’t understand. Just the sort of person I detest spending time around.

 One of my two Wardens to come on this trip, Sigrun, trails me silently. Even if a dwarf, she’s seen me work and never once flinched. I didn’t mind her bursting with questions afterward like a pot bubbling over. The curiosity was refreshing. My other Warden, Nathaniel, stays by the king. While the former Arl’s son, he was nothing like him. Nate saved my life last year and I’d trust him with it again if the need arose.

 As soon as we are out of earshot, the first question comes.

 “The king, I could… he feels like one of us. What’s with that?” Sigrun asks in a whisper.

 I smile. “Because he is one of us. He wasn’t always a royal. He was a Warden before all that. He was there at my Joining. We stopped the Blight together. We put him on the throne because he’s the last living member of the Therin line.”

 She blinks several times but seems to accept it. “You weren’t kidding when you said the Grey Wardens take all kinds as recruits.”

 I chuckle and enter what was one of the bunk rooms for troops the last time I was here, fighting undead and demons every other step. Fang sniffs around while I gather my focus and cast my sensing about again. I “touch” every corner and hidden cranny in the room. Nothing magical here, only memories. I shake my head to clear away the image of long-dead Wardens rising and taking aim at me with their bows.

 As we make our way to the next bunk room, she speaks up.

 “Is it true, the stories I heard about this place?”

 “That depends. What kind of stories did you hear?” I answer.

 “The dead walked the halls and attacked anything that moved, and there were,” she looks side to side before continuing, “demons?”

 I sigh, hand on a doorknob. “Yes. We put all the undead back down, found the hole in the Veil and fixed it, then killed any remaining demons. This was a couple of years ago. The Dryden family has been living here since then. If there were any obvious threats, they would’ve let me know before now. At least I hope they would.”

 I know I have a nasty habit of keeping secrets, small, large and anything in between. Keeping secrets hasn’t always been the best thing for my well-being, considering all that business with Jowan back in the Circle ages ago. Being Warden-Commander, keeping secrets was one of the biggest parts of the job. I sometimes wonder if Duncan stayed up late into the night arguing with his conscience like I do. But we weren’t in a Blight any longer, I could at least afford to keep my men and women informed of what I could.

 “Then why are we here? Why are you doing… whatever it is you’re doing?” she asks.

 “Making sure it is safe. Us mages are in a never-ending fight from the day our magic manifests until the day we die. For some reason, demons find us very enticing. A mage whose mind is captured by an unfriendly spirit becomes an abomination. Abominations are vicious and powerful and need very little provocation to demonstrate it.”

 She gives me an odd look. Not unexpected.

 “Now you know why the Chantry and normal folk are so frightened of us. Those of us who aren’t leashed to a Circle are seen as a massacre waiting to happen. We need to be trained, both to control our powers and how to resist and battle demons, but once that is done, we’re productive members of society. Or can be, if given the chance.”

 We enter the new room and again, Fang sniffs while I “feel” room, searching for any holes or weak areas of the Veil here. Again, nothing but memories. Memories I quickly try to stuff back into the box I keep them in. Seeing the dead walk the halls had reminded me far too much of the horrors I’d seen in my old home in the Circle not too long before that. I’d been anything but stoic on the inside.

 Sigrun remains quiet for the next few rooms we check. I find nothing amiss, not even an errant bit of skeleton. We climb the stairs to the next floor to continue.

 “Why not recruit from the Circle, then?” she asks.

 “We’re only allowed one mage from the Circle per nation. I was raised in the Circle. I count against that quota. Besides, if you’re a mage, once a Circle has you, they pretty much never let you go. They basically own you. Not everyone enjoys the thought of not being free, of not being able to make your own choices. I know, we’re terribly picky that way.”

 We inspect an armory. Nothing out of the ordinary there. However, the arms and armor stashed there were covered in rust. There was no way it’d be any good for anything other than perhaps scrap. I’d have to ask Mikhael if there was anything worth salvaging. Alistair still wore the beautiful sword he’d made from the star metal we’d given him, Starfang. I’d have to commission him to make something pretty for Zevran once my love was back home again.

 Speaking of commissions, I’d have to write and ask Master-- er, Irving, using his name still felt odd to me, even if I was of a rank similar to him now-- about Owain making some staves for my students. I even had the focus stones ready. Steffan, my firebug of a student, had survived his Joining, and I had a sunstone that was perfect for being a staff’s focus. I’m told that in the Anderfels, the Wardens had their own version of the Formari. But we are in Ferelden and a small branch of the Order, we don’t have the luxury.

 I heave a deep sigh as we pushed our way to where Avernus had made his lair for Maker knew how many decades. The anger still flared to life the moment I thought of him. He’d willingly consorted with demons, DEMONS!, and thought that somehow he’d come out of it ahead. Blood magic was distasteful but at least had the occasional legitimate use beyond phylacteries. Nothing good came from dealing with demons, ever.

 “Commander? Are you alright?”

 I nod. “Just bad memories. The sort of mage that people are afraid of, the sort of mage that gives the rest of us a bad name, lived and worked here for a very long time. He was the reason why there were demons here in the first place.”

 “What happened to him?”

 “I killed him. He was beyond redemption,” I state simply.

 Did I regret that, taking his life? He was an old, feeble man. But age rarely affects how dangerous a mage is. Uldred had had no mercy for the young, for the innocent. The apprentices who hadn’t been lucky enough to find protection or a good hiding place had been turned into abominations or killed. If there was no mercy for the innocent, then the murderers certainly had no claim on it. I suppose I don’t regret ending him. Did that make me any different than a Templar? Did it matter?

 I cast my sensing outward, feeling everything at least three times. I had to be sure, I had to be certain beyond a doubt. I didn’t rescue my students, my magi, from the life of apostates only for them to become bait for demons. Whatever I may be, I am not a heartless monster. I don’t toss my students unprepared into a situation that could get them hurt or worse. I leave that sort of cruelty to the experts at it: the Circle.

 I open my eyes after who knows how long. There was… nothing? I’d sensed nothing beyond my own magic. Could I be sure of that? Was it worth risking? I argue with myself as Sigrun and I make our way back to the king.

 Alistair grins as we walk into the room. Nate merely rises to his feet.

 “And the verdict is? His Majesty asked.

 “Safe enough. For now. I’ll send a few men, but I’m keeping my mages in Amaranthine. I cannot risk it, not yet.”

 I needed to keep an eye on them. They hadn’t seen what I had seen when blood magic went awry and demons were unleashed. If anything went wrong, I would be their best chance of rescue. Anyone else would not hesitate to put them down without a second thought. I am their teacher, their commander, it’s my duty to protect them. Alara had taught me that.


End file.
